


The Magic of Tea

by silvercolour



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: And then they need to talk about it, Aspec Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Cuddling, Fantasy AU, Fluff, Getting Together, Hair Braiding, Hugs, Love Confessions, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Tiny bit of Angst, Touch-Starved, and is known to be ace, confession via love potion, jon is ace, magical research, no beta only kayaking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvercolour/pseuds/silvercolour
Summary: At the Magnus Institute for Magical Research, Jon is researching love potions- kind of. He just didn’t tell anyone.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 12
Kudos: 79
Collections: Silver's tma fantasy AUs





	The Magic of Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 4 of the tma fantasy week! You can find my other fills, as well as some older complete fantasy AUs in the collection this fic is also a part of!
> 
> NOTE on the AU: the Magnus Institute is where you can research magic in this AU– and yes, potions are real, although they do have to be brewed with intent. It’s very hard to produce something as personal as a love potion for someone else’s use, or for sale or larger scale production.

It’s one of Those Days, where Jon gets so absorbed in his research that he forgets to eat, or drink, or even to go home at the end of the day if left to his own devices. Martin hasn’t been able to find out if this is some kind of insomnia-induced state, that could be solved by making Jon sleep, or if it’s something else. At least, he isn’t sure yet. He intends to find out. After all, it’s not like he does much else besides thinking about Jon these days.

When Martin enters his office-turned-lab bearing tea Jon doesn’t even look up from the potion he’s stirring. Jon’s hair is pulled up into a messy bun in the way that makes Martin want to run his fingers across the nape of Jon’s neck, or maybe pull the hair from it’s prison and braid it, look after it properly the way Jon clearly isn’t.

The potion bubbling away in the pan is vaguely translucent and gently purplish in colour, as Jon fills another beaker with it and rubs at his eyes without even putting down the spoon– bad scientific practice, even with Jon’s not-great habits. He’s usually more careful than that, which points to today being a Bad Day indeed. There are several beakers already lined up on the bench beside his work station, filled with the same lavender stuff as the pan.

The station itself is a mess. Spread around the pan perching atop a gas stove definitely intended for camping is what looks like half a flower bed, including fresh oak leaves, and snowdrop flowers. Surrounding that is an assortment of small coloured bottles that would make a perfume store proud. Martin is not sure he even wants to know what’s in those things.

Putting the tea down on the separate bench, he clears his throat to get Jon’s attention. Jon blinks owlishly, surprised by Martin’s presence in his office, as though Martin hadn't knocked at the door, then walked across the room in plain view, at the same time he always brings Jon tea.

“I brought you some tea, Jon,” Martin says, as though this is news, and not habit. Jon is still blinking at him in confusion. “Are you okay? Should you even be brewing in this office? This place doesn’t seem very well ventilated–“ It’s an old discussion They’ve had it before, and they’ll have it again. It’s enough to pull Jon back into the present to interrupt the argument.

“It’s fine, Martin. Thank you for your concern.” He always sounds so formal, Martin thinks sadly. “This isn’t a potion with noxious fumes, or dangerous ingredients, so it’s perfectly safe.” 

Putting down the beaker on his bench, Jon blindly reaches for his tea, and finding it already going a bit cold, takes a big gulp.

It tastes… different, he thinks, but definitely not unpleasantly so. Then he registers the look of absolute horror on Martin’s face, and looks down at his hand. In his hand he is holding not a tea mug, but a beaker, now only half full with potion.

“Ah. Right,” is all he can think to say, before gingerly putting the beaker down on the bench as though it might break. Jon feels a bit like he might break, as well. His research–

“Jon? Jon, what was in that glas?” Martin demands, voice just shy of panic. “Do you need an antidote? Should we get you to a hospital? I think Tim might be able to drive you, or, or we can call an ambulance–“

“No!” The word leaves him in a rush, more forceful than intended. Leaving this room sounds… bad. Jon isn’t sure why, but he is utterly convinced that it is the last thing he wants to do. He holds onto the table for support, swaying slightly, and Martin moves around the table, hovering as if to catch him.

“Are you sure? You don’t seem alright, and it’s never a good idea to drink an unfinished potion…”

“It was finished.”

“Oookay, so what is it supposed to do? You seem… dizzy?” It’s a question more than a statement.

Jon doesn’t feel dizzy at all. He feels more like he’s floating than anything else, flowing in a breeze like a leaf, with little control over or concern for where he’s going. 

He’s usually quite private with his research, keeping secret both what he’s doing, and why. After all, explaining you’re researching love potions to study their effect on free will is frowned upon, to say the least. Having to then explain that he started studying this because he’s asexual, out of some morbid curiosity to see if love could be bottled? It may have started there, but that’s not the biggest reason. That’s even harder to put into words. Especially if he wants to avoid the inevitable “but aren’t you immune to those potions'' nonsense most people will inevitably start spouting. And besides, he doesn’t need to explain it. It got him a job at the Institute, and now he can research whatever the hell he wants.

Realizing he hasn’t answered Martin yet, Jon says: “I‘m not dizzy.” He sounds defensive even to his own ears.

“Hmm,” Martin’s doubt is clear, in his voice and in his frown. He puts a hand on Jon’s shoulder to steady him, which is the first time Jon notices he’s been swaying. How odd. “You’re certain this mystery potion is safe? And that it was brewed properly?”

“Of course I am!” That hand is more distracting than it has any right to be, a warmth spreading down his arm and up into his chest from the place where Martin is touching him. That’s a bad sign. Or a good one, possibly. It is certainly one of the signs he wanted to look for in this potion. No, it has to be a bad sign, Jon thinks, yet he cannot bring himself to shrug that hand off, and lose its warmth.

Martin stares into his eyes, searching for an answer, and Jon is torn between avoiding those beautiful eyes, and wanting Martin to never look away. “Sooo, what does it do? I won’t tell anyone about your super secret research Jon, I just want to make sure you’re safe,” Martin preempts Jon’s usual defence, but all Jon hears is that Martin wants him to be safe. Jon would like to be safe with Martin–

Jon shakes his head, trying to think straight. It’s bad, the potion is definitely affecting him. It’s not supposed to do that, but then he wasn’t supposed to drink that much of it undiluted in the first place. He takes a step back, trying to get away from the distraction that is Martin, and bumps into the table, rattling the beakers, and knocking the mug of tea off the edge.

In slow motion he sees it tumble to the ground, tea spilling out before it even hits the floor, and tea and cup shattering into a messy stain on the floor. It hurts. He is uninjured, but it hurts, seeing the tea Martin made him turn into a mess of puddle and broken porcelain. Jon takes a stumbling step away from the shards, and steps right back onto Martin’s chest.

Martin’s hands take his shoulders, and gently pull him back from the table, and push him into the forgotten desk chair near the wall. Jon’s knees buckle, as he continues to stare at the tea. He’s not even sure why he feels like he might cry, but he does. Martin kneels in front of Jon, hiding the awful tea-casualty from Jon’s sight. Martin hasn’t taken his hands off Jon’s arms yet, and again that warmth is spreading to Jon’s chest, and his heart tries to beat faster for no reason.

“Jon? Listen to me, Jon,” Martin sounds urgent, upset, and so Jon focuses all his attention on Martin.”I need you to tell me what that was, Jon. I won’t tell anyone else if you don’t want me to, but I have to know you’re not in any danger, okay?” Jon nods, earnestly. “Jon?”

Oh, Martin means a spoken answer, Jon supposes.

“It’s– It’s stupid,” Jon wraps his arms around his stomach, and tries to shrink further back into his chair.

“Drinking it? Yeah, a bit,” and Jon wants to shrink further into the chair, or maybe through the floor if it would let him. Martin thinks his research is stupid, think’s Jon is being stupid and–

And hand cups his cheeks, and pulls him away from the thoughts spiraling through his head. He lifts his head as Martin’s hand spreads its impossibly good warmth through his face. It feels amazing, and Jon can feel a blush creep up his cheeks at the thought. This is the worst outcome, the experiment wasn’t supposed to be like this, he thinks. The thought wants to be frantic, wants to spiral into awful what-ifs, but the simple presence of Martin being so close to him is enough to keep the thoughts at bay.

“Hey,” Martin has seen the panic that took Jon, and his voice is hushed now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you. I just need you to tell me what that potion is, and if I should be worried. It’d make me very happy if you told me that.” Distantly Jon thinks Martin sounds like he’s talking to a child. More importantly, Jon thinks that making Martin happy is exactly what he wants to be doing.

Gathering his courage, Jon looks away from Martin. He’ll explain, but he doesn’t need to see the disappointment at least. Instead he stares at his hands, twisting together in his lap: “It’s a love potion– kind of?” Jon can feel Martin looking at him, waiting for an answer as to whether that means it’s safe or not. “It’s– I mean. It’s perhaps more accurate to call it a truth potion. It’s supposed to reveal to the drinker who they’re in love with, and– and remove some inhibitions about talking to that person? That’s why it’s named Bravery.”

“Even without that person present however, it’s supposed to make clear who you’re in love with. The drink is supposed to taste like something… that reminds you of... that person,” Jon trails off. The warmth. The way he wants to be close to Martin, wants to stare into his eyes forever and… the taste. The potion tasted like Martin's tea. A bit off, because you're not supposed to drink it straight but– it was definitely the way Martin always made his tea just right, except intensified through magic.

He’s a fool, and now Martin knows how much of a fool he is.

One of Martin’s hands covers both of Jon’s, pulling him back to the present. “So that means you're safe, yeah? No hospital visits needed?’

“No, I’m– it’s safe,” Jon wants to say more, to say something, but it’s a struggle to find the right words between the way Martin is looking at him and the way the warmth spreads into his chest.

And then Martin gets up. And moves away from Jon. The warmth goes with him, as though Martin is the candle and Jon the Moth that only wants to be closer– he cuts that train of thought off there. It won’t get him anywhere. He doesn’t need to bother Martin with this, it’s already far too kind of him to have stayed and offered help. And also not running away when Jon started talking about something as dangerous as love potions.

Martin is staring at the broken tea mug as Jon slowly gets up from the chair, his legs not quite willing to cooperate yet. Jon hasn’t decided what he’ll do–perhaps get a dustpan to sweep up the mess, and wait for Martin to leave before he comes back– when Martin says out of nowhere: “Wait, aren’t you asexual?” Before clapping a hand over his mouth.

Before Martin can lower his hand to apologize the way he clearly wants to, Jon snaps: “Being ace does not mean incapable of love. Nor does it mean I’m aromantic.”

“No, I know, I’m so sorry Jon, I didn’t mean–“

“Then what did you mean?” Jon demands. This, this is what he was worried about. 

“I just…”Jon raises a sarcastic eyebrow as Martin fumbles for words. He wants to be angry, wants to yell, at Martin maybe, or at himself for causing this situation in the first place. He also still wants to be close to Martin, but he’ll be damned if he gives in to that now.

“What I mean is, well, aren’t love potions more like lust potions, usually? That is, this Brave one you made doesn’t seem to work like that, but wouldn’t most love potions be something you do not want?” Martin rushes to add.

“There are a lot that work that way, yes. And those are definitely not the ones I’m researching.”

“Then can I ask why you are researching the other kind?”

Jon sighs. It would be easier not to, to just tell Martin to leave him alone, but he cannot let this misconception stand. “It’s not the love part I’m looking into. I’m trying to find a way to achieve their effects without affecting the free will of the person taking the potion,” He runs a hand through his hair, accidentally undoing the bun he’d pulled it up into before he started brewing. “The reason these things are dangerous is because they can change a person’s perception of what–or who–they want, but if there are more potions like Bravery, potions that clarify existing feelings, then… I don’t know. Perhaps we can make the dangerous versions illegal? Certainly the world would be a better place for it.”

Martin is staring at him, eyes round, expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry, that’s probably a very dumb explanation,” Jon shrugs, and tugs at where the hair elastic has become tangled in his hair.

“It’s not!” Martin bursts out, and the elastic slips from Jon’s fingers in surprise. “That’s– that’s so kind. And amazing!” It has to be the potion that’s causing heat to spread through Jon's chest again, as well as the blush that returns to his cheeks.

“Why aren’t there more potions like Bravery already, anyway? I’ve never heard of that one” Martin asks, eyes bright.

“Because I invented it.”

“You– that’s amazing, Jon! That’s– wait,” Martin interrupts himself. “You invented this? How long ago?”

“Uhm,” a few weeks ago, is the honest answer, but Jon knows what Martin’s going to say about that before he says it.

Martin says it anyway: “Jon, you cannot use yourself as–as some kind of guinea pig!”

“It was fine, Martin. I’m unharmed, and there are absolutely no dangerous ingredients in the potion in the first place. And you know as well as I do that potion making is all about intent. It couldn’t do anything besides what I want it to, or it could fail and just do nothing at all. It cannot be dangerous.”

Martin is nodding along: “Okay, but it didn’t taste weird or anything? You don’t seem very steady, Jon, is why I’m asking.”

“It’s fine, Martin. It worked. Like I intended. It just tasted like tea with milk, the way–“ Jon stops himself before he can say anything else, but Martin caught it. He looks at the milky tea staining the floor, and then at the decided not-milky and not-tea like potion on the workbench. Finally he looks back at Jon, and Jon just wants to run. He’s definitely said too much, and Martin knows, and– Jon finds that his hands have found the tangled hair elastic again, and are pulling at it not so gently. 

Then Martin straightens his back, and steps close to Jon. He takes Jon’s fingers away from his hair, and still not looking at Jon, he gently untangles the elastic, while he talks: “I’m just. I’m going to say something that may be very weird, or, I don’t know, unwelcome? But I think I want to say it anyway, and... Well,” A silence falls between them as Martin frees the last of Jon’s snarled hairs from their trap. “I kind of.. have had a crush on you? For a while?” More silence follows. As Jon’s mind has come to a breaking halt and has to attempt to restart. 

“Uhm. So tell me if that’s– that’s definitely weird, right? I’m sorry for assuming– I just, when you said tea, I thought you meant it tasted like…” Martin waves a lost hand to the broken tea mug behind him. An adorable blush is rushing up his cheeks, as Jon’s mind is finally up to something resembling normal speed again.

“I did,” He replies. “I did mean your tea, Martin.”

“Okay,” is all Martin says, and for a moment all they can do is stand there in the silent office and look at each other. Then Martin starts giggling, and Jon can’t help but join in.

“We’re definitely going about this the wrong way, aren’t we?” Martin asks through his giggles.

“I’m not sure there even is a right way,” Jon says, then his expression sobers up. ”But since it came up already, and now that it’s uhm… relevant? Maybe? I am still asexual,” he wants to add more, but doesn’t know where to start.

“I know Jon, and I don’t care. To be honest, I think I might be grey ace? Or maybe demisexual? I haven’t really been in a relation long enough to be able to tell,” Martin shrugs, and Jon’s heart soars at the idea that there is a chance of this thing–them, together–working. Martin continues: “Anyway, I just want to spend time with you. Like, all the time, really. And do things that we both enjoy doing, and I want to make you tea and– uhm…”

“I like the sound of that,” Jon admits, his voice soft. “And? What else were you going to say?”

“Well– you’ll tell me if I suggest anything you don’t want, right?”

“Of course,” Jon responds, voice serious, as he tamps down on a confusing mix of concern and excitement.

“How do you feel about hugs?”

“Hugs are good,” Jon answers, and the smile on Martin’s face is so very bright as he steps close enough to envelop Jon in a hug. Jon wraps his arms around Martin’s torso in return and holds on tight. His voice is slightly muffled by Martin’s jumper as he adds: “As are kisses, if– if that should interest you.”

Martin only lets go of Jon far enough to be able to look at Jon properly. “If that should interest you– please tell me you’re not going to stay this formal forever?” He asks, grinning.

“I may be able to accommodate that request,” Jon replies with a smirk, sounding a lot less flustered than he feels, standing this close to Martin, being entirely surrounded by Martin. He’s still waiting for an answer from Martin, but it’s just like Martin said: the main thing he wants is to spend time with Martin, and to be close to him. That’s more important than anything else. But selfishly, Jon hopes Martin might be amenable to kissing.

“How fortunate for me,” Martin replies, and then they’re both giggling again.

When they’ve caught their breath, Martin finally answers the question Jon didn’t quite ask: “But yeah, I enjoy kissing too, Jon.” And as if to prove a point that hardly needs proving at all, he presses his lips to Jon’s, tugging him close even as Jon wraps his arms around Martin’s neck and responds in kind.

**Author's Note:**

> No more starting wips, I said to myself.  
> But wouldn’t it be nice if they could talk about this without the potion messing with Jon’s head, I thought.
> 
> I have many feelings and many thoughts about love potions, please prepare for more infodumping by Jon next chapter, or come talk to me here or on tumblr (@silver-colour) about it if you’d like!
> 
> Leave a comment and let me know what you think, I absolutely love hearing from you!


End file.
